Of cumin seeds and comebacks…

So, after half-a-year of soul searching and other such nonsense, I’ve come to the conclusion that I really am no good at soul-searching. Firstly I didn’t know where to search, because I vaguely remember selling it to a slick looking man in a funny black cloak for an orange Popsicle when I was five. It may have been the devil, but I’m not so sure. It could have been Richard Branson, though what he was doing in a Dracula costume hanging around primary school playgrounds and selling orange candies, I don’t know. So I’ve let that one slide and decided to stick to cheap comedy cleverly disguised as sophisticated socio-political satire, which is what I’m good at. Cheap comedy, I mean; not sophisticated satire. I’m no good at sophisticated political commentary. I’m not good at sophisticated anything.

I wrote a poem. It began with “I have a head in my helmet. Not when its on my shoulders, but when its resting on the table. I have a head in my helmet which is resting on my table…”, but then I realized that it’s not really a poem because there is no rhyme or metre, and let’s face it, its ghastly.

Then I started writing a book, but after having written the page numbers and failing to think of a title, even a retarded one like Walk the talk or The River of dreams, I realized that I was pretty much scraping the bottom of the thought-bucket. So, I immediately dropped the idea. Smart move. Saved a lot of time.


And so, continuing in the fine tradition of quitting things that turn bad if I persist, I also quit going out in the sun, eating fruits, drinking coffee, talking to friends and riding the motorcycle and instead focused all my energies on staying indoors and taking a balanced diet of tomato pulao and narcotics.

Life is a bitch when you meet the wrong people at the wrong time. But you know you must have really run over her little puppy or something when she throws the right people at you at the wrong time. Perfectly right people at the perfectly wrong time. God is that cruel! Cruel!

I’ve lately been a bit of not-alright. Thanks for not asking. I’ve spent the last few months in a hazy mix of motorcycling and drugs. With this second chance, I will shake some of that off. Though hopefully not.

All in all, I’m thankful for raindrops, sunshine, butterflies, rainbows and other such general nonsense. I’m also sore about a few things, but honestly who seems to give a shit these days? So, to cut a long story short and to abuse an already overused cliché, I’m back.

Thanks for the applause.